


Guest

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [662]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:29:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23583868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: drst askedTimeless, Lucy and Wyatt, either #16 or #22?22:  two miserable people meeting at a wedding aufor the AU Meme
Series: prompt ficlets [662]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/53353
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Guest

**Author's Note:**

> semi-erratic reminder I take requests at: https://akireyta.tumblr.com/ask (just sign your request if you aren't signed in/up with tumblr)

Lucy wonders on a scale of one to one million how made her mother would be if she snuck out.

Around her, the noise levels are rising, the tent becoming stifling humid as the courses are served and the wine is poured and the party becomes more merry.

She’s sister to the bride, she has to be there. And she’s happy for Amy, she really truly is. It’s the rest of the wedding that has her eyeing the bottle on the table and the exit, in that order. But she couldn’t do that to Amy-

At the next table, there’s a clatter and a shrieking laugh that hits the pitch of nails on a chalkboard, and Lucy reacts. She’s got the bottle and even a glass, and is ducking under the tent flap into blessed fresh air. The wedding, for some reason she was probably told and already forgot, is in a tent in a field in the middle of nowhere.

Lucy spots a tree. “Good enough,” she tells herself, kicking off her heels to walk barefoot over the grass.

The tree marks a tiny pond, the water levels low this late into the summer, but the shade is cool and refreshing. Lucy settles with a sigh of relief as she finishes her half full glass. She’d go back soon. Definitely in time for the speeches.

One more glass. She picks up the bottle and stares blankly at the well-sealed cork. “Oh f-”

“Shit!” A male voice says, and Lucy nearly tumbles down the embankment into the pond. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, grabbing her shoulder, holding on until she’s steady before retreating to a respectful distance. “Guess we both had the same idea of a cool down spot.”

He’s in a tux, the tie undone and the top button popped.

Lucy bites her lip. If she’s sitting with a guest, she’s technically not ditching the party. “Tree’s big enough,” she says, shifting over a little.

“I’m Wyatt,” he says, shaking her hand.

Lucy’s a little bemused. “Lucy. Don’t suppose you brought a corkscrew?” she adds, waving the bottle.

Wyatt shifts to reach into his pocket, the movement pushing him slightly against Lucy’s arm. “Sorry, ma’am. Here you go.”

He flips open a multi-tool with a practiced movement, and within seconds and a small _pop_ the cork is out.

He even pours, and Lucy is charmed. “Bride or groom?”

“Groom. We served together.”

“Ah.”

He seems to pick up on her unwillingness to continue on that line. “It’s nice here,” Wyatt settles against the trunk, head tilted to admire the dappled sunlight through the leaves. “Peaceful.”

Lucy topped up her glass and passed him the bottle. “Wait until my sister gets half a bottle of champagne into her and onto the dancefloor.”

He clinks the bottle against her glass and takes a swig. “That bad, huh?”

“There may be no survivors.”

He laughs, a soft low chuckle, and Lucy feels her shoulders unknot.


End file.
